Holding On To Nothing
by Julziexx3
Summary: After Sam's death, Freddie has started abusing hallucination drugs just to see her again. He refuses to stop because he's afraid of losing her forever. T for disturbing content. Seddie.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey. This is the first chapter of a multichapter I've been working on. My brain is fucked up and this is what I came up with it. I hope you guys give it a chance, cause it is quite sad. Now, on with the show. **

* * *

><p>"Hey, baby." Sam wraps her arms around me and leans in, a wide grin spreading on her lips. Her blue eyes are deep and her thick hair is flowing down her back, and it all seems so real. Damn, I wish it was real. I'd give anything to have this moment right now be...<em>real<em>.

I smile back at her. These are the moments I live for. Even if they're just a fragment of my imagination. These moments...they mean everything to me. If I didn't have these wonderful moments with her, I'd be dead. And I'm sure of it.

"You know," Her expression softens. "I'm okay. I'm fine. Better than fine. I just don't want you to worry about me, baby. It hurts me to see you like this." She mumbles, resting her head against my chest. I slowly move my arm to her head, trying to hold her in place. Keep her by my side forever.

But things don't always work out like that. I blink and she's gone. The room gets significantly colder and I long to have her back already. I put my head in my hands and notice that my face is wet with tears. I just groan, reaching for the bottle of pills and popping one in my mouth. I'm at the point where I don't even care anymore. Let it kill me. I'd be happy if it killed me. Then I'd be with her.

My mother calls me an addict. I am one. But I'm different then most. I'm not addicted to the drugs. I'm addicted to the hallucinations.

I don't do this shit because I want things to be better. I don't do it to numb the pain. I know that nothing anybody ever says would improve this situation. People rest their hand on my shoulder and reassuringly smile at me, telling me it's going to be okay. That's bullshit. It will never be okay.

The only time it gets anywhere close to okay is when she's here with me. It's only for a minute, usually. Sometimes I'll see a glimpse of her in the grocery store or in the hallway at school. But other times, when I've taken about fifty of every pill known to man, she actually talks to me. She rests her hand on my shoulder. She smiles. God, how much I fucking miss that smile.

So I keep on doing more. I order whatever drugs I can get and abuse the shit out of them, just going off of the slight chance that I'll see her. That I'll wake up and Sam will be laying next to me, her hair tousled over the pillow and a small smile lighting up her face. That's what get's me through the day. These drugs giving me the chance to see her are the one and only reason that I haven't killed myself by now.

"Hey, Freddie." Carly's soft, nervous voice tears me away from my thoughts. I nod in her direction and watch as her eyes run over the bottles in front of me. She gives me a sympathetic look and shakes her head. "Freddie...please."

I don't reply for a minute, moving the bottles away from her view. "I'm sorry." I mumble.

The air is thick between us for a moment as Carly taps her foot on the ground, a small sigh escaping out of her lips. I notice how her eyes are clouded over with pain. I bet mine are too.

"I think it would be best if..." She trails off and avoids eye contact, clearing her throat. "I think it would be best if you got help."

I try to keep my tone as calm as I can, nodding slowly at her. "I don't need help. I'm fine. I'm happy."

"Happy." She repeats, pausing for a second to process the word. "Jesus, Freddie, it's no secret that you're not fucking happy!" Carly yells, slamming her hands on the wall. "I'm never gonna be happy again, okay? But there's other ways to get through things! This-" She picks up the bottle of pills and throws it on the ground, " This won't help anything. All it'll do is kill you. You'll be dead in less than a year, Freddie. You have to stop doing it."

Her harsh words should feel like a slap in the face to me, a sudden wake up call. But they don't. I just shrug. "That's kind of my goal." I muse, crossing my arms over my chest. "Being dead in less than a year."

Carly balls her hand up in a fist and presses it against her mouth as tears spill down her face. "You-you need to talk to someone. Please, please just do it. For Sam."

I bite my lip to prevent my eyes from watering at her words. I'm trying to coax myself into not breaking down, but her next words cut me like a knife.

"Do you think she would want this?" Carly mumbles, tears continuing to stream down her face. "Do you think she would want you doing this to yourself?" She has to pause for a minute to cry, letting tons of angry tears run down her face. "For what, Freddie? So you can see her? Because what you see-what you see...that isn't her. It's just your imagination and these drugs fucking with you. She isn't there, Freddie. She never will be there. She's never fucking coming back!" Carly screams, her voice hardly audible because of the terrible sobs coming out of her mouth.

I'm sobbing just as hard as she is, maybe even harder. I try to compose myself and walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "I'm sorry." I mumble into her shoulder, a loud sob escaping her lips. "I'm so sorry."

I tighten my arms around Carly as I glance over her shoulder. That's where I see her; standing in the doorway. Sam.

Her face is red and puffy and I can instantly tell she's been crying. I wonder if she's been here this whole time. She must've heard our conversation. Our eyes lock and I just shake my head as tears pour out of my eyes, so many tears that I can't even see straight.

"I love you." She mumbles and looks down. It reminds me of the first day we ever exchanged I love yous and for a short moment, I almost smile.

"Tell Carly that I-I love her too. And not to worry." Her eyes glaze over and she grasps my arm. "It hurts me so much to see you two like this. I'd do anything to just make you happy again."

I shake my head. "I'd do anything to bring you back." I manage to whisper between gasps of air. Sam shakes her head and disappears. Just like that.

My head is spinning even when I unlatch myself from Carly, gazing at her. "Did you see her?"

"What?"

"Sam. She was here. She says that she loves you and she doesn't want you to worry anymore. And that-"

Carly stops me as fresh tears drip into her face. "God, Freddie." She says bitterly. "Sam isn't here. That isn't her. That is your damn imagination and these fucking drugs. That's all it is."

"Carly...I-" She just rolls her eyes and turns her back to me, exiting the apartment.

I slam my eyes shut and rummage through a bottle of pills, picking three out and swallowing them all dry.

I know I shouldn't be doing this. I know it's harmful and I know that it'll kill me. But none of that matters anymore. Nothing has mattered since I watched Sam take her last breath, her body go lifeless. All I've wanted to do is die.

Carly is right. I need help. I need it, but for what? I just don't see a point in living anymore. Mind as well be dead if Sam isn't here.

"That's right where you're headed." I hear a voice in the back of my mind. Sam's voice. I can't see her, but I can hear her voice clear as day. It sends shivers down my spine and I try to hold onto it as long as I can, pretending, only for a second that it's real.

I just shake my head and know that to an innocent bystander, I must look insane. Constantly arguing with myself or holding on to nothing. I'm probably easily labeled as a schizo to people in public, some poor teenage kid whose brain was always fucked up.

But my problem is so much worse than that. I am holding on to Sam because I can't bear to see her go. Even though she's already been gone. She's been gone for two months. Two fucking months. She isn't coming back, and that's what hurts the most. I can do as many drugs as I want so I get to see her, spend time with her. But I can't bring her back. Carly's harsh words enter my head and I know that's she's right. My mothers right. Brad's right. Everyone around me is telling me the same thing, but I'm too blind to see it. Because I'm so in love with Sam that I can't just let her go. It was too sudden. She was seventeen. No one deserves to die at seventeen.

"Hi, honey." My mother mumbles as she walks through the door. "I saw Carly in the lobby."

I don't bother replying. I know exactly what she's about to say.

"We talked for awhile about...you." She sighs. "And- and we both agreed that you need to...you need to get help."

I shake my head in protest and my mom interrupts me, "Please..." She murmurs pathetically, resting her hand on mine. "Just talk to someone." I can see in her eyes how broken she is to see her son like this. I'm her prized possession, all she's ever cared about. And to see me break down like this, it kills her. Still, I can't agree to this. I need Sam too much. I can't let her go. I'll never be able to let her go.

"Mom...I don't think that I-"

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. You must stop this, Fredward." She says strictly. Her voice cracks on the last word. I know how much she cares about me. I know how much she hates, absolutely despises, these drugs. She hates what they're doing to me and she hates how depressed I am after Sam's death. It kills her to see her baby like this.

I shake my head. "Mom...I can't stop. These drugs-they're the only part of Sam I have left."

I watch her expression turn pained. "Sam isn't here, Freddie. She's gone. And I know it hurts you to see her gone but-"

"Hurts?" I cry, angrily getting up. "It doesn't hurt me, mom. It kills me! I don't have any reason to live if she isn't here!"

"This...this is why you need help! You'll get over her! You're going to have to get over her!"

I turn my back to my mom as tears wet my face. I'm putting her through such a tough time but I can't stop. I rush out the door of the apartment and press the button on the elevator, trying to calm myself down. I remind myself to breathe as I go down in the elevator. God, I wish she was here. I'd give anything just to have her here.

"Breathe, Freddie. I'm okay." And there's that voice again. Clear in my mind and it makes me wanna scream. Cause maybe they're all right, she's not here. It's just the drugs. It's just my fucking imagination and these damn drugs. Maybe I'm imagining it all.

I burst out of the elevator and walk into the cold rain of Seattle, letting it soak over me. I can't help let tears run down my face. I just want her back. Jesus Christ, is that too much to ask her? I want to be able to hold her again. Kiss her forehead and tell her how much I love her. I want to see her pissed and cursing at me when I do something wrong. I want her to come to me crying after she's had a shitty day. I just want something. Something real. I want to be able to feel her like I did before. I realize something suddenly, something everybody has been telling me for the past two months. She's gone. Sam's gone and she isn't coming back.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review! Chapter 2 will be up soon!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I know that I never continued this, even though I said I was going to. Stupid things got in the way and I doubt anybody even cares about this story anymore, but I feel like its sort of my job to keep updating it. I wrote half of this in April and just recently remembered that I never posted it and added some more. Hope you guys (if anyone reads it) enjoy! All I ask is if you do read it, send me a quick review. I'd love to hear your opinions on chapter 2.**

"Shit's pretty rough, kid." The disheveled older man shoves a crumpled brown bag in my hand. We exchange a nod before he makes his way back to his motorcycle and takes off, leaving me standing alone in a dark ally in the middle of downtown Seattle, holding deadly drugs and contemplating whether or not I should kill myself right here and now.

I'm such a mess.

Three months ago, I wouldn't have even imagined disobeying my mother. Now? I've ruined her. She took all my "prescription" drugs away and my solution was to buy them illegally off the streets by some guy I'm pretty sure I've seen on America's Most Wanted. I'm such a mess and I hate myself for it, yet not enough to actually do something about it. The only person who could make me feel better right now is Sam. But she isn't here. She'll never be here.

I shake my head as I slowly walk back to the car. Once I get inside, I open the small bag and glance inside. I place five white pills on my palm and swallow them dry. I sit back for a minute and close my eyes, thinking of Sam. Her beautiful blond curls that cascaded down her back, her bright blue eyes that would light up when she smiled. How she could come back with a witty comeback in seconds. How it was so easy for her to get under my skin, but I let her anyway just because my life would suck if she didn't make me miserable half the time. God, I miss her. I miss her so goddamn much.

I'm desperate for another hallucination, just for a glance at her. I haven't taken anything since my mother took the drugs away on Thursday and I'm going insane. I chuckle at the thought. As if I wasn't already insane.

I can't dream about her like I used to. I don't dream anymore. I see nothing, nothing but black. I am nothing. When I can't see her, I feel nothing.

_Nothing_

The word runs through my head thousands of times and I shut my eyes to keep it there, playing over and over in montages. I occasionally see her face, but not often enough. She's smiling, laughing. Hitting me after I say something stupid. Yelling at me in the midst of a huge argument we had over...dinner reservations? I almost smile. Leave it to us to have an argument over something so worthless.

Before I know it the memories are gone and I open my eyes back to the cold harsh reality of life, my life.

I put my foot on the gas and drive out of the tiny ally, squinting as my eyes come in touch with daylight. Then my vision blurs. I can feel my heart beating in my chest and I remember that I just took five pills. Five pills of what a drug dealer called "pretty rough". And I'm driving.

I try to pull over but my hands seem to be attached to the wheel, somehow guiding me back home. My foot presses harder on the gas and a car behind me beeps. I'm no longer in control of what I'm doing. I can't even see the road in front of me, and I know it. I know that this is going to be the way I die. I hope it is. I'll be dead in five minutes or less if I'm lucky. Sweat runs down my forehead and I'm shaking in my seat. If I had control of my limbs, which are somehow driving this car, I would crash into a telephone poll and that would be it. I wouldn't have to do drugs to see Sam anymore, I'd always be with her. I wouldn't be miserable and alone. I wouldn't have to come to terms that I'm failing all of my classes and I won't be able to do anything with my future. Hell, I won't even have a future. Death sounds so great right now. It's the only solution. There can't be another solution. I mind as well just-

I'm torn away from my thoughts by a voice. Sam's voice "What the hell are you doing?"

She's screaming and I turn to her, taking a second to notice how beautiful she looks, even now. "I'm coming to see you, baby." I murmur. My voice doesn't sound like myself.

"Get off the road! Get off the fucking road!" She's screaming so hard but I still can't hear it. My ears are ringing and I'm starting to think that I'm already dead. I vaguely see tears running down her face and I slowly lift a finger to wipe them off. She slaps my hand away and her mouth comes in contact with my ear, shouting so loud that almost all the ringing has been muted. "Do you want to kill someone? Someone with a boyfriend, a best friend? Someone who is healthy and happy and doesn't deserve to die? A 17 year old girl who was driving to her boyfriends apartment one minute and in a coma the next?"

"Sam...baby...settle down. I-I'm fi-"

I can't even get the word out before she's screaming at me again. "Do you think I want you to die? Because I don't. Don't kill yourself, Freddie. Get off these damn drugs and try to turn your life around. This isn't what I want either, okay? I don't want to watch you get eaten alive by these drugs and I don't want to watch you kill yourself when you can still get help. If this is all about me, why wouldn't you do what I want?" She has to take a breath because she's sobbing so hard, and I notice that I am too. "B-Because all I want is for you to be okay." Her voice is harsh. "Get the hell off of the road."

I nod quietly and she's gone. I try to think about what she just said to me, but I can hardly think right now. Sweat covers my forehead and I can't stop bouncing my legs up and down, causing the car to jolt forward every so often. My mind is delayed with my actions and my breathing is no longer persistent. Jesus Christ, how long does this trip last? Usually it's no more than a few minutes of this erratic behavior before the actual high kicks in, but it's already been longer then that. I can only imagine why this is illegal.

I press my foot on the gas a little too hard and the car jolts forward. A few people on the road beep at me and I curse under my breath. I can't see where I'm going, my eyes are clouded over. It can't be too hard to get home, I'm sure I only have a few more miles.

It's a miracle that I even made it to Bushwell. When I pull in the parking garage I sigh and lean back in my seat. My heart beat is slowing and I decide it's okay to walk through the building.

Taking a deep breath, I board the elevator and press my floor number. My head is pounding so hard that I have to shut my eyes with everything in me, praying it will stop. Sam's voice echoes in my head. It was my fault. She had been driving to my apartment when she was hit by that drunk driver. If I had gathered even an ounce of courage and gone to her house, no matter if her insane mother was home or not, Sam would still be here. That realization makes me nauseous.

The loud ding of the elevator tears me away from my thoughts and I try my best to stand up straight, staring at the open hallway in front of me. One minute I am staring ahead and the next I am at Carly's door, knocking as hard as I can.

Spencer answers. "Hey buddy..." He says cautiously, and by the distorted look on his face, I can tell that he knows. "You wanna come in? Maybe lay down?" I nod slowly and try to make it to the couch by myself, but Spencer sighs. "Here, I'll help you. You okay?"

"No."

"I know, kid. I know." He assures me. I want to assure him that he doesn't know. That nobody knows, nobody will ever know. That I'm not just a pathetic teenage kid that lost his girlfriend. I'm a pathetic teenage kid that lost his _everything_. I don't have the energy to say anything except one word.

"Spencer?" I whisper.

"Yeah?"

"I did it, didn't I?"

He leans forward as I rock back and forth on the couch, trying my best to pull myself up to a sitting position, before Spencer can even respond, I'm screaming. "I killed Sam. It was me. I KILLED her."

Spencer holds me down, trying to stop me. He is talking to me, maybe even yelling at me. I don't hear a word he's saying. I vaguely hear footsteps coming down the stairs and I expect to turn around and see her wonderful blonde curls and adorable smile, but I don't. It's just Carly, who looks more exhausted and miserable than I can imagine.

She doesn't speak. I think I'm still talking to Spencer, or he is talking to me. I'm not sure. Everything is blurred around me. My mother might have even walked in, maybe she was crying. She could have threatened to send me away like she has so many times before. She could have screamed my name, hoping...begging that I would answer her. She probably did. But I am gone. I'm no longer Freddie Benson. I'm no longer anyone. Everyone who has ever cared for me is standing is this room, begging for a response that I refuse to give. Because there is one person, one single person, who isn't here. And god dammit, when are they going to realize that she is all that matters?


End file.
